Trust In Me
by SpockLikesCats
Summary: Uhura asks Spock to trust her for an experiment involving love, Human-style. Cover Art by Linstock.


Soundtrack: **_The Last Emperor_** by Ryuichi Sakamoto, David Byrne and Cong Su

**_Yea, again I say, "Star Trek" is not mine, nor are her characters; I profit not, but love much._**

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_**Starfleet Headquarters, Hangar Bay, Shuttle Departure Station**_

"No -- I am assigned to the Enterprise," Nyota Uhura insisted.

Commander Spock, holding her eyes for a long moment, made a quick change in the personnel manifest, moving Communications Specialist Tholen, an Andorian [special emphasis, Klingon dialects] to the Farragut, and putting Uhura in his place on Enterprise.

"… Yes, I believe you are." Commander Spock held her eyes for only a second and resumed departure preparations. He noted her triumphant expression and felt her thankfulness.

He, too, was thankful she had stood up for herself. Spock had recommended her assignment to the Farragut weeks ago after lengthy consideration. Captain Pike had spoken with Spock about his fraternization with Uhura in early February: although Spock and Uhura had kept every manifestation of their affair private, and fraternized only off the Academy, Pike had expressed doubt about his ship's officers attempting a professional relationship on duty while keeping an intimate relationship private in a community as small as a starship.

Spock had, somehow, kept her assignment to Farragut a secret from Nyota, while ensuring Pike learned of it. He was able to compartmentalize certain thoughts and conceal them from Uhura during their intimacy and at other close times. This one he had hermetically sealed off from her, with the predicted reaction from Nyota today; now it was too late for anyone else to stop her last-minute change of assignment from Farragut to Enterprise.

Because he needed her. And at a distress call from Vulcan, his own home world, who could better serve their Communications division than she? As a Vulcan languages expert, she would prove invaluable.

And their telepathic bond, so new, would be more closely preserved. The challenges Spock had faced with Nyota already had united them firmly, but one challenge stuck in his mind and his sublimated senses as he completed Science department and Executive Officer tasks to ready Enterprise for departure.

The challenge he had sidestepped by moving Nyota to Enterprise at the last minute.

The challenge of loneliness.

.

OxOxOxO OxOxOxO OxOxOxO OxOxOxO

.

Just two weeks after their initial sexual relations, Uhura had challenged him to have sexual congress without linking telepathically.

"I want you to understand what Humans do," she told him one morning. Although she had toweled off after her brief shower, droplets of water gleamed on her bronze skin, shimmering gold in the morning light and the golden lights in the hotel room.

Spock was still finding himself intoxicated by her, while at the same time finding analytically all the ways they were compatible.

"Do you mean what Humans understand, or, the actions Humans take?"

"Both," she said, and came to sit at the edge of the antique bed, picking up his warm hands and holding them inside her own. "Spock, can you trust me, completely?"

Spock sat up in bed, still warm and damp in places from their lovemaking an hour ago. He leaned forward and kissed her gently, intently, on her lips. "If I did not trust you, Nyota, do you imagine I would fraternize with you in this way?"

She squeezed his hands. "Feel that?"

Of course he felt it. He felt her mental touch, intellectually questioning, affectionate, passionate; he felt her physical touch, warm and firm.

"Okay," she said. "Now subtract everything but my physical touch."

"Why would I wish to…? I cannot do that."

"I'm asking you to do an experiment with me," she said.

Spock's expression began to change; he knew he looked wary. "I do not understand."

"I want you to understand me better as a Human. So you understand what I am leaving behind when I am with you." Her deep brown eyes were steady.

"I thought -- forgive me, but I am sure you have told me several times that you preferred your relationship with me to any you had experienced in the past."

She nodded earnestly and kissed the hand she was holding. "I want you to experience why. Will you trust me, just this once, with this experiment?"

He nodded, hesitantly.

"Can you withdraw from linking with me telepathically when we touch?"

"You request that I be other than I am …"

"As I have been for you, time and again," she finished neatly. "And joyfully so, I may add, because of the link we share. Not to mention that you are a sensitive lover, alert to my moods and desires. But I want you to understand with all of yourself how it is for us. Humans, that is."

"Very well," he agreed reluctantly. "I will require some time alone to prepare."

"How long?" she asked, rising and beginning to dress.

"An hour, I think."

"Shall I go get us some breakfast?"

"As you wish," he said indifferently.

She paused as she put on her coat, looking at him. His gaze was already the inward one she remembered from her second year at the Academy. His face had again become quite stoic and still. He sat at the edge of the bed, legs in a lotus-like position, his eyes closing, his breathing slowing, his hands clasped in front of his face, thumbs and some fingers interlaced, his first and second fingers extended together. He was murmuring in Vulcan:

"I am alone in myself; my mind is inviolate, independent, functioning only within my own bodily vessel, reaching out to none, alone in one …" His low voice was hoarse.

She blinked back tears and left.

Repeating this set of thoughts over and over, he broke the tender bonds he had forged with Nyota. Part of him wanted to weep. Each word felt like a tearing away. Each cut him. It was good for her experiment that she was gone at the moment; if she had seen him during this process she might have stopped it outright. This would have been a relief to Spock, but Nyota would not have the experience with him that she wanted today.

At long last he finished; the process had taken him less than thirty minutes, but left him weakened with an old loneliness. He longed for her embrace, her voice, for reassurance. He knew she would be back, but he had to trust that now, for he did not know.

Exhausted, he slept.

Nyota had found a chair on the street outside the café and was fortunate to be seated, sipping her Peet's coffee, when it hit her.

That undercurrent of presence that had so quickly become her security, an inner voice, was gone.

When she got back an hour later, Spock was sleeping, not as he normally did, curled on his side, but almost as if he were laying at attention, "arms along his sides, fingers in a natural curl," per the Uniform Regs, except he wore nothing but bedclothes, pulled up to his chest.

She removed her boots and socks and padded over to him, bagel in one hand, a cup of Peet's in the other.

He awoke, that remote look still in his dark eyes. It had been a long time since she had seen that look. Even in class these days, there was a non-blatant, private glance that he reserved for her alone.

Sitting up, he sipped the coffee and a small expression entered his eyes, not a pleasant one.

"I got coffee on purpose, Spock. Usually you have f'canth tea, I know, but I've discovered that f'canth is a calming blend. I wanted you to be as keyed up and confused as we Humans get."

"I am part Human, you know," he reminded her in a pedantic tone he rarely used outside of class, and never to her.

"Drink up," Uhura said cheerily. "And I got you a plain bagel with herbal cream cheese this time."

"Thank you," he said dubiously, taking a bite, then another. He was quite withdrawn as he sipped and nibbled.

She watched him and sipped some of her own coffee, her stomach still nervous with anticipation, or dread; she wasn't sure which. He had definitely gone back into himself; there'd been no flash of mental touch when their hands had brushed each other a minute ago.

Nothing.

Well, she wanted him to know. The constant isolation Humans dealt with, the primitive urge to be together, complicated by so much misunderstanding. How it felt to have to say, "You hurt my feelings." "I don't understand." "That hurt," or "Move over a little -- right there, that's it," and other similarly awkward stuff like, "touch me there -- not there -- there."

Wanted him to understand the essential awkwardness of Human sex, the trust it took. That "there, but for the grace of touch telepathy …" That the pleasure she experienced from Human-style sex was so much smaller, compared with the mind-blowing experiences she and Spock had shared so far together.

He finished his breakfast and went to bathroom to brush his teeth. Nyota undressed and joined him there to do the same.

As she rinsed her mouth, he leaned on the door frame, his arms crossed above his waist and his olive nipples budded from the comparative cool of the air. His pale skin had gooseflesh. "How do you plan to begin?" he asked her.

She blotted her mouth on a towel and went to him, her own dark nipples hardening as he moved his arms to his sides and she pressed to him and felt his chest hair tickling her.

She anchored her arms around his lean waist and reached her mouth up to his. He hardly seemed receptive. Shut off as he was, each of her movements would surprise or startle him, unable as he was to anticipate her movements as he was used to do.

She moved her hands over his smooth back, cupped and kneaded his rump, nuzzled through the dark hair on his chest, kissed and gently bit his nipples. His head reared back and his eyes were closed. His arms straightened and braced against the wall at his back. He did not appear at all pleased; it was more as if he were enduring her attentions.

"How are you feeling?" she whispered into his ear, then gently tongued it, breathing into it, and licking up to the point and down to his earlobe, below, to his neck, where a vein throbbed rapidly.

Down to his collarbone, down the cleft between his pectorals and the cleft centering in his abdominal muscles, to the line of dark hair leading to his pubis, and she crouched and took his semi-erect penis in her mouth.

He groaned, "Stop, please …" and she did, just long enough to lead him to the bed. "Nyota, please," he said, "This is completely wrong for me."

"I am sorry it is unpleasant, but you agreed to this," she said neutrally, straddling his hips.

He opened his eyes then and they almost devastated her. She knew he could see grim determination in her own eyes.

"I think I understand now," he said hoarsely.

"You will have a more complete understanding when we are finished," she said in as soft a tone as she could muster. "Will you trust me, and keep your promise to go through with this?"

His face was drawn up in a painful expression she had not seen since the split initiated by T'Pring weeks ago, the Tal-Kriyit.

She lay down beside him and said, "Perhaps if you focus outside of how you are feeling right now, it'll help. If you pleasure me, for instance."

"Was I…?" His eyes opened and he realized what she meant. "This feels quite miserable to me," he admitted, his voice harsh from a clot in his throat. "How do you endure it?"

"Because it's the only way for us Humans, Spock. I want you to know what an incredible gift our mental contact has been to me, and why I don't want it to end. And I want you to know how Humans love, in case … something ever happens to hurt our link. That we can still trust each other and love each other." Her own eyes teared up.

"But you judge I need further experience with this isolation?"

She shook her head a little sadly, sympathy radiating from her dark eyes, and brought his hands to touch her body.

"We need further experience becoming as one in spite of this isolation. We have to tell each other almost everything out loud, or read each other's body language. We'll need to look at each other's eyes, and exchange signals, or speak."

"Allow me to pleasure you, then. But I want no more of this for myself. I cannot convey to you how painful it is for me."

"Try," she said. "Use language. Shall we speak Vulcan?"

His lips tightened. "There are not words in Vulcan for this," he said with some asperity. "As you well know. Nor will Romulan do; their joy in conquest and ill-consideration of others would put the incorrect interpretation on my words."

"So we'll muddle through in Standard," Nyota said, tenderly stroking him. "Is this painful for you?"

He shook his head, annoyed, and said reluctantly, "No."

She moved gentle, teasing fingers to his penis. "And this?"

"I can bear it," he said stoically.

"And can you do the same things for me?" Her voice was soft, that voice she knew he loved.

"Yes, of course," said Spock, raising up on one elbow and looking into her eyes again. He looked lost and alone. "Keeping in mind that your anatomy is Human and female."

"I know this difficult for you, but you will go through with it?"

"Yes," he said. "I would do anything for you, Nyota."

"Will you allow me to pleasure you?"

"Very well … you can try," he said with a small sigh. "But I believe I have made it quite clear that I get no pleasure from it."

"Perhaps you will. As you said, you are half Human. Open yourself to the possibility. Otherwise I'll think you're being too biased for our experiment."

"You yourself said that you were biased in favor of the way we have been together before."

"Just allow it, my darling, mpenzi. Please." She took his hand again and placed it on her breast. He made a cone of his fingers and tenderly drew them together at her nipple, rolling it between thumb and fingers, and the sensation went right to her core.

Watching her reaction, he bent his head to kiss and suckle her there, and her center began to fill. She moaned a little and moved his hand to her lower abdomen and stretched his long fingers down, down to her wetness. "Let me show you what I want you to do," she whispered, and began stroking herself.

He sat up to look, his face still, but soon his hand moved into place, a finger (or two) sliding in and out and a very sensitive thumb touching and massaging her clitoris. His remoteness, perversely, turned her on a bit, and she began touching him. He turned his face away from her. "Please, look at me," she said. "I need to see your eyes."

" '…Windows to the soul,'" he quoted. "Perhaps this … will help me to understand the intensive Human need for eye contact." He looked at her and his expression was less remote.

"It's not just eye contact," she said. "We need to see the expressions and micro-expressions on each other's faces."

"I do not want you to see my expression if you stimulate me in this manner," he said. "It would, perhaps, lead you to believe that I was angry with you. In truth, I am not; but this process is … somewhat distressing. The fact that I had never considered before how you related sexually with others than myself … that I considered you only in relation to myself … seems an unforgivable error."

"Oh, Spock," she said softly, tears in her voice, "We all do it, we all look at the world through our own eyes first. Please know I forgive you. Don't be angry with yourself."

"I am not ang--"

"Distressed with yourself, then." She sat up and said, "Now I am going to show you a sexual tradition common to many Human cultures. It's rather anatomy-centered, but it'll give us an opportunity to examine each other's sexual … functioning … from a closer perspective. Slide down the bed just a little way…"

She pivoted on her rump and turned, kneeling on all fours, her knees on either side of Spock's chest, her sex just above his face. She took his hands again and put each to her breasts. She traced her fingers through his pubic hair, to his testes, and gently cupped them one at a time, licking and lipping them, and although his peh-lak-lar, tendrils, remained coiled [beause they were inactive without telepathy? Because he was not aroused? No, to the latter …], his penis began to rise.

She felt his hands upon her breasts, somewhat more vigorously touching and kneading them; then one hand resumed manual stimulation of her clitoris and vagina, and she moved on his hand and said, "Kiss me there, kiss me, please," and the long fingers moved in and out and suddenly her clit was engulfed in the heat of his lips and tongue. She arched her back in delight and ground herself into him.

Her mouth slid over the glans of his now-erect penis, hard and a nearly glossy bright green at the tip, rich green on the double ridges of his frenulum, strong and thick and olivine at the base. Opening her throat, she engulfed him, gradually, gently stroking and cupping his testicles, also a bright green. She could smell not only his usual wonderful scent, but also copper from all the blood engorging him; she could almost taste it from his penis, and as she moved to completely engulf his sex he bucked. Hard.

It startled her but she managed to keep from biting him or even tightening her jaw -- in such intimate circumstances, in such a delicate position, she was hyper-conscious of safety.

He was licking and sucking on her so hard now it was painful, but she went with it for a minute. Because right behind pain, sometimes, was intense pleasure. She slid his cock slowly in and out of her mouth, simulating as best she could the slow penetration of her womanness that he usually did because it brought her such intense pleasure. Suddenly the pain she was feeling stopped and she heard his voice, raspy, commanding: "Harder -- and faster --" and she paused in her attentions to say, "And for me, softer, and slower."

She began fucking him in earnest with her mouth, and her hands squeezed his balls a little harder, and one finger stole to his rear cleft and pressured his anus, just enough to stimulate the nerve endings there. She heard him groan.

His tongue entered her vagina, then lapped her clitoris; he slicked a finger inside her wetness, in and out, then suddenly inserted it in her bottom, slowly, drawing it out equally slowly, while he licked her sex, and she trembled, and bucked and rubbed herself all over his mouth, and his one hand on her breast became stronger, kneading with a bruising force, and he arched up his hips and her mouth was flooded with coppery-tanged, almost decent-tasting semen … a little thinner in texture than a Human male's, thank god; she swallowed.

Her center felt full to bursting with pounding blood; her womanhood was throbbing; Spock's tongue, more talented by the moment, explored her again, and flicked firmly at the center of her nerve endings, bringing her …. Bringing her ….

She threw her head back and let out a long moan, because here was longing … "Keep on," she gasped, tears running down her face, and longing … and the slow, slow build that could be so frustrating, yet she wanted fulfillment now as never before, and first she went numb there and then the sensation returned and her center came exquisitely, almost painfully, alive, and she straightened up, with her head back again, and cruelly kneaded her own breasts, caging her nipples in her blunt fingernails, not to lacerate but to stimulate, and his fingers and tongue were busy, so much that she couldn't discern what was what, and she exploded on him, a loud cry ripping from her throat, which she toned down as the intensity abated, and more tears ran down her face, as her hands cupped his sex protectively, then stroked up his belly, on which she leaned as she numbly climbed off him to curl beside him, hug him to her and cry into his shoulder. He wrapped his warm arms around her and said, "Why are you weeping?"

"I'm so overcome …" she started, formulating her thoughts. " … with your generosity, your trust, your attentiveness."

"I did it for you, beloved," he said in his quietest tone.

She looked at his eyes, which were quite moist; he leaned over and kissed the tears and their tracks from her own face and throat and a tear slipped from one of his eyes. He brushed at it.

"And may I ask why you are weeping?" She kissed his cheek, a salty-tasting trail left behind by the tear.

"It was … overwhelming sensation," said Spock, wonderingly. "Overwhelming, completely; I lost track of who I was and became solely a sensate animal. Or, I should say, a sensate sentient animal, grasping concepts but only in the broadest sense … in short, I could barely think, only feel. And besides feeling many confusing, yet often pleasurable sensations, I missed you." On the last three words his voice went up, tightening.

She blinked tear-swollen eyes at him. "So now you know. Except most of the time it's not this good between Humans. So you see why I value our link so much, right?"

"Indeed. And you know why I did not want to sever it, even temporarily."

"But our lovemaking turned out to be fairly good, didn't it," she mused.

"Indeed, if I cared for sex without true intimacy, yes; it was good. But I would like --"

"Not yet," Nyota said, climbing on top of him again. "I am determined that you analyze it further, and concede that there is intimacy between us, even in this situation. I'm determined that we watch each other and look into each other's eyes." She lowered her face to his, saying, "Open your eyes," and as he did, she softly kissed his lips, her gaze fastened on his, love radiating from her. His eyes warmed and she felt his hands, one on her waist, pressing her close, and one at the nape of her neck, exerting gentle pressure as he returned her kiss, her briny, musky taste still on his mouth, his lips and tongue and teeth gently biting, moving to excite every nerve ending in her lips.

"You learn fast," she breathed.

"I have an excellent teacher," he said, and pressed her to him, kissing her face all over, running his long fingers through her hair.

They began again to make love, this time much more slowly and, to Spock's surprise, intimately, lovingly.

Spock was shuddering against her and she wondered if he was still spasming from climax, but it was going on a bit long.

She separated herself from his shoulder; he was looking away, and she commanded softly, "Look at me."

Tears were welling and spilling from his deep eyes and the shudders were silent sobs. She pulled him into her arms, and did something that Humans do. She rocked him gently, tears forming in her own eyes. "Being without our link has made you more vulnerable, hasn't it," she whispered. She felt him nod. She kept rocking him, and asked, "Do Vulcan mothers rock their children?"

"I do not know," he said, wiping his eyes. "My mother rocked me when I was very little."

After a while, she lay still, her arms firmly around him, anchoring him as she wanted to be anchored.

"My mother used to sing to me, even as I got older. I think I must have been about eight or nine years old when she stopped. Of course, by then, I was learning songs from her and we would sing together. Did your mother ever sing to you?"

"Yes, when I was very small, she did."

"What?"

He lay back now, and pulled her into him, pressing her head to his chest. "My favorite was an old American folk song her father had sung to her, and his parents to him. It was called, I believe, 'All the Pretty Little Horses.'"

"Can you sing it for me? Just a little?"

His eyes, still moist, narrowed in thought, and he began to sing softly in a light baritone, still a bit gravelly from tears, "Hush a bye, don't you cry, go to sleep, my little baby. When you wake, you shall have all the pretty little horses. A black and a bay and a dapple and a grey and a coach, and si-ix little horses …" He stopped, saying, "That's all I remember."

She loved the sound of his voice, resonating from his chest, and she raised her face to look at him and say, "Thank you. That was beautiful. And you, sir, have no excuse for not singing in the Academy choir."

"My duties keep me far too busy," he protested.

"All work and no play makes Spock a dull boy," she said in a teasing tone. "Shall we play some more?"

"I still want to re-establish --"

"Wait, Spock, please. We are closer now to understanding the best of Human love."

They made love again, with much eye contact, raised eyebrows, nods, and smiles and tears from Nyota. "Oh, Spock, do you know, you are a wonderful lover, even without telepathy."

"And you are doubly so, for you have taught me everything I know."

They slept, curled together, only their bodies in contact, and toward morning, Uhura heard him speaking Vulcan in his sleep.

"Mother," he was saying. "Mother, please forgive me."

"Spock, do you remember your dreams?" she asked him when they both woke up in the morning.

"Sometimes," he said.

"Because you were dreaming about your mother during the night, and asking her forgiveness."

His breath caught in his throat and he closed his eyes, looking away.

"What did you do?"

"It is what I did _not_ do, Nyota. I did not understand her. I understand now why Mother was always looking at me, and touching me … holding me, ruffling my hair, stroking my cheek …" He was frowning and his eyes were moist again. "She could only link with my father, not me. I was so determined to be Vulcan. How lonely I must have made her feel."

"I am willing to bet that your mother understood much more about you than you think. Your eyes can speak volumes. She probably saw a lot."

"I never told her I loved her."

"Well, we Humanfolk do like to hear that now and then. Why don't you tell her now? Send a communication or write her."

He sat up a little and looked into her eyes. "Thank you, Nyota. I will do that. You are quite wise for one so young."

"Thanks. And I'm not _that_ much younger than you."

"You have given me a great deal of insight with this … experiment. Are you ready for it to end?"

"What do you think, darling?"

He tilted his head slightly, considering. "I am willing to do some more experiments, but truthfully, I would prefer to re-establish our telepathic contact soon."

She beamed at him. "Yes, let's. But I have to say, the experiment proved a great success. We learned to make love in the Human idiom. And now we know why our link is so important."

"I always knew that last part," Spock said, allowing a gleam of humor into his eyes. "But I think now you feel some reassurance."

"Yes, indeed I do. Can we do our link now? I'm very hungry and would like to go down for breakfast. To the dining room," she amended, seeing the gleam in Spock's eyes turn to a mischievous twinkle. "Oh, my, I see your skill with sailor slang is improving."

He raised his eyebrow insouciantly. He kissed her softly, and his expression became more serious.

He positioned himself to sit facing her, and put his fingers to her temples. "Beloved, I join with Thee," he began, his deep eyes on hers. "We share breath, touch, taste, sight, sound and thought. We are a totality in mind and body; one, Beloved/Beloved."

He felt a tingle and heard her voice in his mind, and leaned down and kissed her again, and their thoughts swirled together with joyous celebration.

.

OxOxOxO OxOxOxO OxOxOxO OxOxOxO

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**_USS Enterprise_**

Commander Spock had finished all the preparations for the departure of Enterprise; he had changed from his Academy instructor's uniform to his Starfleet uniform with the Commander stripes and the Sciences emblem on the blue tunic, stowed his personal goods in his Enterprise Executive Officer quarters, and was on his way to the Bridge to report to Captain Pike.

In the turbo lift, he considered the consequences of transferring Nyota Uhura to the Enterprise at the last minute. Their mission involved a distress call from Vulcan; she spoke excellent Vulcan. She was assigned to Communications Engineering, not the Bridge; her expertise would be available while her presence might not be immediately noticed.

He tilted his head with a sudden memory. Had not Captain Pike once quoted to him "an old Starfleet adage" that went,

"It is easier to ask forgiveness than to ask permission"?

Spock's lips quirked in a brief smile as he prepared to report to the Captain.

.

_- FIN -_


End file.
